


It's not Time Until I say it is!

by Jessi_aka_pyro



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Drunk Sherlock, Eventual Smut, Happy Ending, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Protective John, Stubborn Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Worried John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-17
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 18:52:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1195761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jessi_aka_pyro/pseuds/Jessi_aka_pyro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is drunk and was left alone to him mind palace again. Can John prevent him from attempting another fall? But this time without a chance of coming back. read to find out. JohnLock. Will be a rated M story for specific reasons ;3 later. SMUT, DEPRESSION, POSSIBLE TRIGGER, ANGST OUT THE ASS. BOYXBOY Oh my god I'm so bad at summaries. Just read it. Please.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Shaking fingers slowly pulled out the cool mobile from Sherlock’s crisp coat. He slowly typed out the message to which he knew John would immediately reply to as he stepped towards the ledge.

 _“John, I need help. –SH,”_ it said.

Almost immediately he received a reply.

**_With what exactly? –JW_ **

He could almost imagine John’s face, scrunched up in confusion, with just a spark of concern. Nearly spilling the contents of the bottle he was holding, Sherlock slid his phone back up to reply, hands a little steadier as he made final decisions.

_John, I can’t do this anymore. –SH_

**_“Do what? –JW,”_** John replied, only seconds after Sherlock.

 _“Life. –SH,”_ he texted back. Feeling tears slowly prick at his eyes, Sherlock gazed up at the sky, replying once again as an afterthought.

_The sky looks so nice at night, I’ll miss this. –SH._

John would now start feeling the beginnings of panic, he imagined. Reading the older man’s reply, Sherlock took a swig of the rum, cringing at the taste.

**_Sherlock, whatever you’re planning to do, stop it. –JW_ **

_No one stopped me on the way up here. Why should I stop now? –SH_

Sherlock climbed onto the ledge and flopped down, swinging his legs off the building. Glancing down at the pavement, Sherlock took another gulp of the rum and sighed as his phone went off again, the screen getting harder to read as his vision began to swim.

**_Please. We can talk this through, you can tell me what’s wrong and I can help you. –JW_ **

Tears finally began to fall as he reread the message over and over again. Sherlock took yet another drink, feeling his self sway slightly and replied to the text.

_Everything is wrong John. I’m not supposed to love people; I’m supposed to be alone. I’m not supposed to have feelings, especially for my roommate.-SH_

**_You’re supposed to do all those things Sherlock. You’re human, you are built to feel and to fall in love. That should be a wonderful thing. –JW_ **

Sherlock laughed at that. Leave it to John to be optimistic at a time like this. He wiped his eyes before glancing down back to his phone.

_John, I’m a freak, you deserve better than me. –SH_

**_There is no one better than you. –JW_ **

“Damn it, John!” Sherlock felt his self cry harder at the comment, the screen barely visible. Somehow, he fought through the tears and typed out a reply, taking another swig of the rum, now finding his self more tolerant to its taste.

_I don’t think so John. Everyone is better than me. –SH_

**_You’re wrong. –JW_ **

Glaring at the bottle, Sherlock cringed at John’s ignorance, somehow finding a way to blame it all on his self. He watched the people milling about below him, some casting him caution glances before carrying on their marry way.

_This bottle of rum tells me otherwise. –SH_

**_You’re amazing and brilliantly smart. You catch killers and save people’s lives, you saved my life. –JW_ **

Before he had a chance to fumble out a reply, his phone binged once again, signaling a message. John must really have been panicking now.

**_If you’ve been drinking you’re not in your right mind, Sherlock. Wait until it wears off, please. –JW_ **

Sherlock slowly stumbled to his feet, nearly falling over then and there. Looking down at the ground, twenty floors below him, he felt his mind fill with calm serenity from the anticipation for the fall. “So it’s this way again … Except there’s no coming back this time…”

_I can’t wait John, the ground, it’s not that far. It looks so comfortable. –SH_

**_Please. –JW_ **

Taking one last swig, Sherlock tossed the rum to the ground below him, watching as it nearly missed a black haired woman who was passing with a man with greying hair. They both looked up at Sherlock and gasped, drawing the attention of other pedestrians.

**_I need you. –JW_ **

He chuckled.

Smiling wildly, Sherlock replied, “ _I have to go John. –SH”_

He took a step closer to the edge, toes just slipping off.

_It’s time for me to go. –SH_

**_No it’s bloody well not! It’s not time until I say it is. –JW_ **

_‘Always the soldier,’_ Sherlock thought laughing a little crazier than before. Feeling the alcohol once again, Sherlock swayed slightly before wiping the tears from his face once again so he could refocus on the smooth pavement below him, slowly filling with people, all expecting him to act.

_It is John. I’m sorry. I love you, even though I shouldn’t, I do. –SH_

“I love you, John Watson,” he whispered to thin air, knowing it’ll be his last chance to say it.

_Goodbye John. –SH_

Taking a deep breath, Sherlock closed his eyes and imagined John’s smiling face in his head before bending his knees for the jump.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

 

_“SHERLOCK!”_

From the sudden screech of his name, Sherlock’s eyes snapped open. He jerked back from surprise and lost his balance. Allowing a yelp to escape him, he felt his body twist as he began to fall over the edge. Before he had a chance to fall though, strong hands were grabbing around his thin waist and pulling him back up onto the roof top.

He collapsed into the person’s embrace before looking up into what he expected to be soft, caring blue eyes. They were brown.

“What the hell where you thinking!?!  Standing on the ledge like that… Sherlock!” Lestrade suddenly stopped his rant when he noticed the tears beginning to cascade down the taller man’s cheeks, retracing their previous paths. Sherlock slumped in the man’s arms, clinging to him like a lifeboat. Throaty sobs escaped him as he tried to pull together, only succeeding in falling apart even more.

Donovan stood awkwardly in the door way glancing between Lestrade and Sherlock. Making eyes with her superior, she nodded and walked towards them, picking up Sherlock’s abandoned phone off the ground as it began to bing.

**_Sherlock, please not again! Tell me where you are! –JW_ **

Donovan showed the message to Lestrade who was now sitting on the ground, rubbing at Sherlock’s back who was all but curled up in Lestrade’s lap, clenching onto the man as he cried. “Tell him we’ll take Sherlock home,” Lestrade whispered, not taking his eyes from Sherlock.

_It’s Donovan. Lestrade has him. We’re going to bring him home. –SD_

**_Thank you. So much. –JW_ **

Lestrade carefully picked Sherlock up, fumbling at first due to Sherlock being much taller than himself, but eventually got it under control. Sherlock quieted and clutched onto the lapels of Lestrade’s jacket and fought to keep his eyes open, the alcohol trying to overcome him. Sniffling, he buried his head in Lestrade’s neck before crying a few more tears and slowly slipping into unconsciousness.

“What do you think it was that made him want to do it?” asked Donovan, wearily looking at Sherlock’s sleeping face before looking back up at Lestrade.

Sighing, Lestrade shook his head and walked down to his police car, walking through the few pedestrians that were still there. “He’s a sociopath, Sally. He discovered his emotions and it scared him. This was all he could think to do.” Laying the lanky man in the back seat, Lestrade climbed around into the driver seat as Donovan got in the passenger. Casting one quick, worried glance to Sherlock, Lestrade sped off to 221B Baker Street.

 

John was pacing frantically in the hallway connecting his and Mrs. Hudson’s flat, checking his phone every 30 seconds. Mrs. Hudson casted worried glances towards him periodically, but said nothing. He went back through his messages from Sherlock and felt himself crying once again. He knew Sherlock was safe and with Lestrade, but he couldn’t help but be worried. _‘What happened? Why was Sherlock drinking? Was he always harboring these thoughts? And what was that about him loving John?’_ John didn’t know what to think, just to wait for Sherlock to return home so John could take care of him.

I was 2:27am. Thirty-Four minutes since Donovan texted him. He was going to drive his self mad at this rate.

“John, why don’t you come in here so I can make you a cup-a-tea?” Mrs. Hudson finally asked, earning a glare strong enough for her to flinch from John.

Noticing his mistake, John smacked himself in the head rather hard and released a deep sigh. “I am so sorry, Mrs. Hudson. Of course I would like a cup-a-tea.”

“Oh that’s alright dear, I’d be worried too if it were my husband.” She smiled before leading a disgruntled John into her kitchen.

Not even five minutes into the cup, there was a loud bang at the door causing both beings to jump up and for John to come running for the door, forgetting temporarily about his tea. Throwing open the door, John was met with the grim face of Lestrade, Donovan close behind.

“Where’s Sherlock?” John said in a breath. He frantically looked around for the tall, dark figure.

Lestrade nodded his head back at his car where John could vaguely make out a slumped figure, shaking. “Is that- … Is that him? Sherlock?” He asked, remembering the last to see Sherlock cry was right before Reichenbach.

“Yea.”

“Well let’s get him.”

John opened the back door to Lestrade’s police car and made to grab Sherlock’s arm, only to have the taller man scramble out, wiping away wetness off his face and beginning to stride forward before nearly collapsing, unable to hold his own weight.

“Sherlock!” John ran to Sherlock’s side and helped him back up, supporting the man’s weight. John led Sherlock inside slowly, making note of his drunken mumbles and halfhearted attempts to pull away. Everyone watched on in awe as John gently put Sherlock to bed, tucking him in and kiss his forehead before striding out of the room in search of a cup of water.

Once all that was done, John sighed deeply and ran his hand through his hair, tugging slightly. Looking towards the Detective Inspector, John bowed his head slightly in respect. “Thank you, Greg, Sally.  I don’t know what would have happened if you two didn’t get there.”

Lestrade sat in Sherlock’s arm chair and gestured to John’s, across from him. “Sit, John. I actually need to talk to you.”

John did as he was told, feeling his self slowly process the world around him. He watched as Lestrade opened his mouth and began speaking to him, but none of the word quite made it to him. Instead he found his self staring at the wall directly over him, where the smiley face was painted. “Lestrade…,” he mumbled out, successfully cutting off the DI.

Noticing the other’s blank stare, Lestrade began to worry about John as well. “Yes?”

“Sherlock… he wasn’t- … He wasn’t really…” He trailed off, not able to finish the sentence and took a deep breath to stop his self from shaking.

Lestrade looked at John wearily before placing a hand on the man’s shoulder. “I don’t think you should leave him alone for a few days. Not even if he seems like his self. We all know how good of an actor he is.”

John nodded. “How was he? When you found him I mean.”

“He was crying,” cut in Donovan, sitting herself on the arm of Sherlock’s chair, for once missing the usual snide when talking about Sherlock. “Never seen him do that, didn’t know he was capable, genuinely anyway.”

“He passed out as I took him back to the car, but about half way here, he woke up again,” said Lestrade. “He started crying all over again, yelling at us to let him go back. To let him die.” Lestrade visibly shivered.

John gasped at the image. He then covered his face in his hands, messaging at his temples. “How’d you find him?” he asked, voice croaking.

“His bottle of rum almost hit me! Leave it to him to plan a suicide and still get on people’s nerves.” Lestrade glared at Donovan’s feeble attempts to brighten the mood.

Lestrade cleared his throat, watching as John’s eyes reemerged from behind his hands, lightly glistening. “As soon as I noticed it was him, Donovan and I chucked it up the stairs to stop him. I wasn’t sure if this one was real or not, but I didn’t want to take any chances. Good thing I didn’t too.”

John nodded, dully aware of his surroundings anymore. In a quiet whisper, he asked, “Do you think… it was- because of me?”

“I don’t know,” Lestrade answered honestly. He then stood up and walked to the front door, tugging Donovan with him. Placing his hand on the handle though, he stopped. “John… Get some rest okay? Don’t- Don’t do anything Sherlock would do. And I’m serious; don’t leave him alone for too long.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is all me, no help from pictures whatsoever, so if you don't like this, then I'm really sorry:/ I can't blame any one else. I hope you do like it though, of course! :D


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

John didn’t hear a word. As soon as the door shut and he shooed off Mrs. Hudson back to her flat, John slowly made his way to Sherlock’s bedroom door. He sighed and felt tears begin to build up as he rested his head against the cool wood of the door. Slowly turning the knob, John was met with Sherlock’s dull grey eyes meeting him. He gasped in a breath, never seen those vibrant grey eyes look so dead. “Sherlock…,” he breathed.

Nudging the door further open, John witnessed Sherlock crawl back beneath his covers which were now huddled in the far corner of his room, clutching onto a pillow.

“Hey,” he said soothingly and squatted down near the man. “I thought you were sleeping.”

Sherlock groaned and ducked his head further under the covers. “I can’t, John. I can’t… sleep!” Snapping his head up, Sherlock’s grey-blue eyes struck John’s blue ones. John gasped at the sadness and confusion that swirled within the glaze from the alcohol.

“Sherlock, what’s wrong? Tell me,” John urged.

Said man shook his head violently and John was surprised to see tears prickling at the bottom of Sherlock’s eyes. Not knowing what to say, John stared at the young man before pulling back the covers. “Come on Sherlock, let’s get you back in bed.”

Sherlock nodded numbly, allowing John to help him back to bed, stumbling across the room. Before John had a chance to set Sherlock down, said man tripped over his feet and landed on the bed, dragging John with him. John collapsed none-to-softly on the other causing Sherlock to groan in pain and pulled out from under John, curling into a ball.

“John,” he panted, “John, I’m going to vomit.”

John immediately jumped up and grabbed the nearby trash can. “Here.”

Almost immediately, Sherlock lunged for the can and began dry heaving into it. He hadn’t eaten in a few days so nothing came out except spit and saliva. John gently rubbed the others back as he was practically coughing his lungs out.

Once the heaving stopped, John pulled Sherlock back into the bed and forced him to lie down. “Better?”

Pushing John away, Sherlock rolled away from him. “Leave me, John.” He felt fat tears bite at the back of his eyelids. He held them back, saving for when John left the room. Not really in the right mind, his deducing skills were deluded by the rum still; Sherlock breathed a sigh of relief after hearing the door close, quickly feeling a sob tear its way up his throat.

Rather than being alone as he thought, he felt calloused thumbs gently wiping away tears that had begun to fall. Sherlock’s eyes snapped open and stared as John drew his self closer. John caressed the back of Sherlock’s head as he climbed into the bed, pulling said man to his chest.

Sherlock was hesitant, but as John kept holding him and filling him with reassuring words, he felt the same feeling that had over-whelmed him on the rooftop. That same feeling of dread, disappointment, and resentment. All aimed at his self, of course. Sherlock decided he should take advantage of this and divulge in his selfishness. He relaxed into John’s embrace and wrapped an arm around his neck, pulling his face into the junction of John’s neck, other hand clutching the front of John’s shirt. Not sure if it was the alcohol or his own emotions, Sherlock shuddered as he felt his walls come crashing down, tears flooding his face and thoroughly soaking John’s shoulder.

“I’m horrible, John,” Sherlock croaked out.

“What? No you’re not. Why would you think that?”

“I- I…,” Sherlock shook his head again and burrowed further into John.

“Shh. It’s okay.” John petted Sherlock’s hair comfortingly. “We’ll talk about this in the morning, okay? Sleep, Sherlock.”

John held Sherlock tighter, feeling his self break a little more by every tremor or sob that escaped the beautiful man in his arms. Once Sherlock finally fell unconscious, John placed a light kiss on his forehead and quickly followed after into unconsciousness.

 

When Sherlock woke, he felt horrible. There was an incessant pounding at the front of his skull and his bones ached, but even with all this, there was also a very pleasant feeling.

Opening his eyes, he was met with an ugly jumper he almost immediately recognized. It took a few minutes to remember last night, but once he did, Sherlock groaned in frustration and cursed himself for being so stupid. He started to wander into his mind palace, head swirling with questions, but John began to stir and pulled Sherlock closer to him in doing so.

Sherlock gasped and immediately felt guilty for the pleasure he found in being pressed so close to the man holding him.

“Jawn,” Sherlock mumbled out around a yawn, attempting to awaken John. John grumbled a bit and tightened his arms around Sherlock and rolled onto his back, pulling Sherlock on top of him.

Slowly blinking awake, John smiled softly at Sherlock. “Morning Sherlock,” He said, words slurring slightly from drowsiness.

Sherlock, pushing down lingering emotion, nodded to John and quickly pulled out of John’s embrace, quickly rushing to the shower, only to stumble from a massive headache.  
Sherlock groaned and clutched at his head, flopping back down onto the mattress.

John chuckled at the man and sat up, scratching at the top of his head.

Sherlock glared from his position on the bed. “Don’t mock me, Watson.” Groaning again, Sherlock rolled over, curling in on himself. “God… Is this what a hangover feels like?”

“I’ll just go get you some aspirin and a cup of tea, okay? Go take a shower and rinse your mouth out, I promise it’ll help.”

Sherlock grumbled and pushed his self up, watching the older man leave the room.

After he dragged himself through the shower, Sherlock began to fear the unavoidable conversation that was looming over his head. He knew John would bring it up. John always brought up uncomfortable topics. Topics of which Sherlock would have been 100% comfortable with avoiding. But ‘nooo’, evidently, John found feelings and sentiment important to discuss. Something that wretched therapist taught him after Sherlock had left. If he had known that woman was going to make John all caring and ‘let’s talk about our feelings’ he would have found another way to fight off Moriarty, rather than take the easy way out and fake his death. As difficult as living without John was, anything’s better than John’s heart to heart talks.

Sherlock staggered his way to the kitchen and flopped, almost immediately regretting that action, himself onto the chair, just in time to observe John pouring the hot tea into two tea cups.

“So did the shower help, as I advised?”

Sherlock huffed and looked away, smiling slightly in spite of himself. “A bit.”

John laughed lightly and set the cups down, placing two small pills on Sherlock’s saucer. “Here. Swallow those before drinking the tea.”

Sherlock nodded his thanks and did as instructed, humming into the tea. They sat in silence until Sherlock felt his headache slowly ebb away to a dull roar within his head. He stared into his now empty cup and sighed to himself. Quietly he said his thanks again and began to slowly spin the cup in circles, watching as the residue left in the cup fought with gravity and rotated along with it. Just as the silence was begging to smother him, John spoke up with the dreaded words.

“Sherlock, we need to discuss what happened last night.”

Sherlock looked away, missing John’s pleading eyes. “No we don’t.”

“Don’t be like this, Sherlock. Please. It’s important we speak.”

Sherlock stood and headed for the living room. “No. It’s really not,” he said, laying on the sofa and placing his arm over his eyes, hiding his expression.

“Sherlock…” John sat in his arm chair and faced it towards Sherlock. “Don’t fight me on this. You will have to talk to me eventually.”

“No,” Sherlock pouted and turned over, facing the back of the sofa.

“Sherlock,” John said sternly, his military experience seeping out. That was enough for Sherlock to tense up, but he still didn’t give in and kept his eyes welded shut and facing his body away.

“Sherlock,” John tried again, “Sherlock, you can’t keep doing this. I already talked to Lestrade, he agreed it’s best if we keep you from cases until we sort this out.”

Sherlock gasped and shot to a sitting position, staring wide eyed in shock at John. “You wouldn’t.”

John inwardly winced at the slight betrayal lingering in the other man’s eyes. “I already did. It was Mycroft’s idea,” He lied. Well, only partially lied, he told his self. He was sure Mycroft would have done just that. He just couldn’t take that look totally directed at him.

Sherlock swore to himself and glared at the floor. “Damn Mycroft, he has no business in my personal life. And how could you go along with that, John? I’m perfectly fine! I had one off day. ONE.”

John sighed and rubbed his hand down his face. No one said this was going to be easy. “Sherlock, please. This isn’t about Mycroft, it is about you. And no you are not fine. People who are fine don’t just drink their selves to suicide. Only people who have issues do. And you know what helps? Talking it out with someone. So it’s either me, or we get you a therapist. Unless you’d prefer Mycroft or Lestrade to talk to you.”

“No!” Sherlock yelled at the end, eyes wide with fear now. “No,no. Just you. I- I’ll… talk to you…”

John sighed in relief, eyes softening to warm and comfort. “Good, good… Now. Where do you want to start?”

Sherlock took a deep breath, holding for a bit, before releasing slowly. Only to suck in another. “John, I can’t do this. Do we have to do this? Can’t we go on like we did before?”

“And what. Just wait for you to have another break down? No, Sherlock, we cannot do this later. We’ve waited too long as it is. I am not losing you another time, permanently this time. We are doing this now, there is no later. I’m sorry, but you are hurting, and I don’t like it. Now please, just cooperate and we can get this over with as soon as possible, and you can go back to flittering about London and I can go back to following after you, hopefully with a much lighter conscious.”

Sherlock dropped his head, hair successfully hiding his eyes. “Fine. Where would you like to start.”

“Where ever you think is right, Sherlock. Maybe when you felt the need to kill yourself.”

Sherlock laughed dryly. “It was always there, John. I just had a better hold on it until recently.”

“Well what made you lose that hold?”

Sherlock raised his head and stared into John, making the other shift in his seat. “Sentiment.”

John cocked his head, a light smile gracing his mouth, etched in with the confusion. “Sentiment?”

Sherlock leaned back and crossed his legs, sitting crisscross style. “Of course, sentiment. What else could confuse me?”

“Well, what caused this sentiment?”

“You.”

John gasped lightly. “Me?” he asked, almost appalled he had that much effect on the young man.

“You come into my life, twisting it into the unfamiliar. Loyal, accepting, unpredictable John Watson. You killed for me not even 24 hours after meeting me. Not only that, but you stayed. Plus you waited three years for me, waiting on the slim chance that I was alive. You can’t do that without expecting it to change a man, especially me of all people.”

“Why ‘you of all people’?”

“Because no one has ever stayed. Everyone leaves. Except you. I should’ve expected the sentiment.”

John sat, slack jaw and wide eyed, staring at Sherlock, with an expression filled with awe. Fighting to compose his self, John cleared his throat and sat a bit straighter. “Sherlock… I’m not quite sure what to say…”

Sherlock looked down again and sighed quietly to himself. “It’s understandable. I’m sorry, John. It seems sentiment is affecting me again. I understand that you don’t feel the same. You don’t have to pretend to be nice to me.”

John snapped his mouth shut and stared at Sherlock, shocked at his words. “Don’t feel the- Sherlock, how exactly do you feel for me? What sort of sentiment are we talking?”

“It really doesn’t matter.” Sherlock looked away, hair still hiding his face.

“Sherlock,” John demanded.

“Didn’t you wish to speak of last night, John?”

John sighed in irritation. “Yes, yes, I suppose. But we will come back to this, Sherlock. Now go on, why did you go to the pub last night.”

“I was experimenting. That’s all. See? No need to dwell on it. I simply wanted to know the effects it had on my brain.” With that, Sherlock stood up, heading to his room, only to be stopped by John’s hand on his forearm.

“You expect me to believe that? I’m not a complete idiot, Sherlock. If you were experimenting with alcohol, you would have brought it back here.”

Sherlock looked slyly at John. “What if I wanted to know how I acted in public while intoxicated?”

John’s grip tightened. “Sherlock!”

Sherlock rolled his eyes, and sat down in his own arm chair, John’s hand falling away.

“Please! Tell me what happened, I just want to help.” John pleaded with Sherlock, collapsing back into his chair.

Sherlock examined his nails before sighing again and returning John’s stare. “Why does it matter? I’m here now, I’m fine, and we talked. Why can’t I go? There’s criminal’s out there John. Criminal’s the police are too stupid to handle.”

“Because you ARE NOT fine. And we ARE NOT done talking yet. And the police will be FINE without you for a bit! Now will you lease just COOPERATE with me!? Please, Sherlock, you are running my patience.” John gripped his arm chair angrily, challenging Sherlock to make up an excuse again.

Sherlock sighed again, rolling his eyes. “Bored. There’s nothing else to talk about, John. I just went out for a drink and things got out of hand. That is all. Really, I’m fine John. You just worry too much.”

“Damnit, Sherlock!” John leapt from his chair and growled down at the other. “Tell me what happened! All I want to do is help you!”

“How is yelling at me going to help me, John? Great tactic.”

“Sherlock! Please just talk to me!” John pleaded, fire still burning in his eyes.

“Why should I, John? What do you plan to do? Hold me and say everything will be alright? Tell Mycroft? Please. You take me for a fool? There is nothing anyone can do for me. ESPECIALLY you.”

John exploded. “IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT!? Do you want everyone to leave you alone, Sherlock? To never worry about you again? Do you want to wake up to an empty house, an empty heart every day and have to live with the loneliness for the rest of your life? Because you’re well on your way there. Now stop being an ARSE and tell me what happened, Damnit!”

Sherlock stood up along with John, staring down at the angered man. “Why, Dr. Watson, it sounds as if you are speaking from experience. Are we now going to divulge into your own issues?”

John felt the fire rip out of him as he pushed Sherlock back into his seat and then turn towards the stair leading to his room.

Sherlock felt fear flash through him, temporarily diminishing his anger. “John? Wh- Where are you going?”

“You want to be alone!? Fine! I’m leaving.”

Sherlock’s eyes shot open. “You’re bluffing.”

John snapped his body towards Sherlock. “No, Sherlock, I’m not. You don’t want me to look after you? Fine, I’ll leave.” He turned back, beginning to ascend the stairs. “You’re perfectly fine, right? No need for me anymore.”

Sherlock felt himself freeze to his spot, rooted to the floor. He didn’t mean for this to happen! He just wanted to not have to talk about it. Maybe the only way for John to stay was for him to open up. Damnit! Why couldn’t he understand people’s emotions!? Why couldn’t people’s feelings be as simple as deciphering different types of tobacco ash?

By the time Sherlock snapped out of his head, John was descending the stairs, a duffle bag in his hand, grumbling to himself and wiping at his eyes angrily. Sherlock shot forward, stopping just in front of John, stopping the man in his tracks. “I went to the bar because… b- because I heard it help’s people forget about things you’re ashamed about!” Sherlock shouted, fear shown bright in his eyes.

John’s eyes shot wide until he scoffed in Sherlock’s face, sidestepping the man. “Come up with a more cliché answer and I might believe you.”


	4. Chapter 4

 Chapter 4

 

“But it’s true!” Sherlock pleaded, tears beginning to fill his blue-grey eyes. “I felt ashamed for the sentiment I’ve been feeling, so after a while, I went to the bar to try and forget! But it didn’t work. Please! You have to believe me.”

John stopped at the door, hand on the handle. “And St. Bart’s?” he asked, in a soft voice.

Sherlock glanced away, ashamed he was admitting to his moment of weakness. “The alcohol muddled my mind… I- I saw it as the only solution of escaping.”

John slowly turned, watching a tear fall from Sherlock’s eye as he held his head up. “Escaping what, Sherlock?”

Said man dropped his head. “I- … I already said. Sentiment.”

John dropped his duffle and approached Sherlock as one might approach a terrified kitten. “Sentiment for what, Sherlock. What sort of sentiment do you hold for me?” he asked, going to place a hand on Sherlock’s head but pulling back before he got to close.

Sherlock felt his knees give out and another tear escape. Collapsing to the ground, Sherlock braced his hands on the floor, holding his torso up from following his legs. “I- … I should not be feeling this, John,” he said in a quiet whisper.

John got onto his knees as well and gently grasped Sherlock’s face in his hands. Lifting it up, John looked into the now dead, unguarded, pools of grey. “It’s okay to feel, Sherlock. Everyone feels.”

The dams broke and tears began to cascade down Sherlock’s face, crashing onto John’s hands. “Not me, John. I’ve- I- I’ve never f- felt before. Not like this. John, You don’t n- need me. You a- are so much better th- than me!”

John smiled at the man, mopping at his face with his jumper sleeve, “Sure I need you, Sherlock. I’ll always need you.”

Sherlock sniffed and grabbed hold of John’s pants leg, wrinkling the material in his hands. “John… I’m not sure what I’m feeling, but it makes me feel sick, I don’t l- like it. I know you won’t like it e- either, just please, leave it b- be.”

“Sherlock… I can’t leave it be when it’s doing this to you. Just tell me what you’re feeling. Please.”

Sherlock cried harder, wall after wall crumbling down, just as they did the night before. “I- I- I… It- it makes me s- sick and I always th- think of you a- and you make me h- happy, John. But it’s wr- rong. I hate the way th- those girls look at you. I- I try to m- make them stop, but I still f- feel sick. I ign- nore it but it always c- comes back! I- I don’t like it, J- John! Th- then I looked online a- and it said that I- I’m in l-l-love… w- with you…. Bu- ut I c- can’t, r- right? Cuz s-s- sentiment… I- I don’t do sent- timent. John, I- I’m s-s-sorr-.”

Sherlock was cut off with a kiss. John was kissing him. Sherlock’s lips were on John’s. John had pressed his lips to Sherlock’s. Sherlock’s mind went haywire. He couldn’t think, couldn’t move, he could barely believe what was happening. Just when he felt John begin to pull away, Sherlock surged forward, reconnecting their lips. John would have fell over with the force if he hadn’t quickly threw a hand out behind him to brace the fall. Sherlock tried to move his lips in what he thought was supposed to happen, only to smudge their lips harder together. John pushed Sherlock off with a laugh.

“Sherlock, you don’t just throw yourself at people. You gotta work up to that.”

Sherlock blushed and looked away, wiping at his face, trying to rid the wetness and cover up the redness.

John sat crisscross and smirked at Sherlock. “So you’re in love with me?” He asked, cockiness dripping off his words.

Sherlock blushed harder and looked down. “I never s-said that. The internet did.”

John lifted Sherlock’s face again and smiled down. “I never knew you to blush and stutter before, Sherlock.”

The young man pulled his self away and stumbled to his feet, crossing his arms and facing away. “Quiet, Watson. Leave me alone, you got your story.”

John rolled his eyes and turned Sherlock towards himself again. “Well that’s too bad, because I kinda fancy you myself.”

Sherlock dropped his arms and looked at John in multiple states of shock. “You- … You do?”

“Well yeah. The High cheek bones, tall and slender frame… what’s not to like? I have eyes. And that hair and those eyes! Mmm, gorgeous. I just never thought you’d be into that sort of thing, so I moved on.”

Sherlock’s smile dropped. “You… moved on?”

John softened and wrapped Sherlock into his arms, guiding him back into the living room. “I sort of just pushed you to the back of my mind, Sherlock. I always had a thing for you. Why do you think I always dated girls taller than me?” Sherlock laughed lightly at that while John pushed him back down on the sofa, John following after. “Sherlock, I still need to know why you wanted to kill yourself.”

Sherlock’s face dropped once again and he groaned aloud, pleading with John. “Again!? I already told you why, John!”

“You said to escape the sentiment of liking me. What I need to know is why you felt you needed to kill yourself over that.”

“John… Please.” Sherlock’s eyes were filling again, he was looking away from John and sinking further into the sofa.

John rubbed his hand softly down the man’s arm. “Sherlock, we need to get through this. Once you tell me, I swear I’ll leave you alone.”

Sherlock sniffed and looked to the hand on his arm. Sighing, he gripped at the fabric on his pants and dropped his head again. “I couldn’t bear the thought of you being with me. So with the alcohol prohibiting me from thinking clearly, I decided jumping is the only way. The only way to protect you.”

“Protect me? Why would you need to protect me? And I thought you Wanted to be with me?”

When Sherlock wouldn’t answer, John began to worry. “Sherlock?” he asked a little quieter. “Sherlock.”

Leaning down into the man’s field of vision, John caught a tear falling from his eye. “Sherlock?” He asked again.

Sherlock squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, clearing the thoughts from his mind. “John I- I’m no good for you. I’ll only hurt you.”

“Sherlock, you can’t know that.”

Snapping his face to John, Sherlock shouted, “But I do know, John! Of course I’ll hurt you! I’ll either become bored and leave you or get you killed! And I honestly do not know which is worse! And that scares me, John! That terrifies me to my core! I cannot allow myself to hurt you. If I hurt you, I can only imagine what it’ll do to myself, what I’ll become.”

“Sherlock…”

“John, I am a dangerous man. An unstable man. You heard Donovan and Anderson, I’ll snap one day. I’m a psychopath, yes? What if I hurt you! I can’t live with that possibility, John. So if I killed myself, then I would never have to ponder the possibility, not if I eliminate the factor.”

“Sherlock.”

“Please don’t make me hurt you, John! It’d just be much easier if I die. I can’t deal with people properly, and you’re too nice to leave when it gets too much for you. No, you’ll stay and take care of me first before you run. Please John!”

“Sherlock!”

John grabbed hold of Sherlock’s face to stop his ramble. “If it got too much for me, I’d leave. I promise, okay? And Sherlock, You’ll never hurt me, not like that anyway, okay? And we all die sometime. Whether or not I’m with you won’t change that. Now look, that’s no reason to kill yourself. I swear that isn’t a reason. You have to live, for me okay? Please? Sherlock, I like you too, and I don’t want you to die. If you die I’d be sad and have to die as well, do you want that to happen? For me to kill myself because you did? Sherlock, please live for me. Besides, “John lowered his hands as he saw the hysterics leave Sherlock’s eyes once more, “If you died, I couldn’t kiss you.”

“You w- want to kiss me? Again, I mean?”

John smiled and pressed their foreheads together. “Sure, don’t you?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SMUT! SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT!! Just thought I'd warn you:)

 Chapter 5

 

Sherlock nodded and pressed their lips together. Pulling away, they smiled at each other before John crashed them back together and gripped the back of Sherlock’s head, twisting into his curls. Sherlock moaned, opening his mouth enough for John to slip his tongue in. Pulling back again, John nipped at Sherlock’s bottom lip, placing kisses over his lips. “You like your hair pulled?” he asked, a sly smile appearing.

Sherlock shrugged feigning indifference, but John saw the flush that covered his cheekbones. “I guess so.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I’ve just nev-Ah~!”

John watched as Sherlock’s head was thrown back and the most delicious moan was ripped out. John had tangled his hands fully in the hair and pulled Sherlock’s head back, anticipating the reaction. “You never what?” asked John, that smile still on his face.

Sherlock breathing turned heavy as he fought for control over his body. “I-I said I’ve never… done anything l- like this before.”

“I see.” John licked up Sherlock’s neck, earning a groan, and nipped at the man’s jaw before relocating his mouth. Pulling on the black ebony curls again, John pulled Sherlock down onto the sofa, exploring the inside of Sherlock’s mouth.

Sherlock tried to fight for dominance, but John yanked on his hair viciously and squeezed his hip, winning almost immediately. Not sure where to put his hands, Sherlock awkwardly gripped the front of John’s jumper until John slid them around his neck. Sherlock whimpered as John continued to mess with his hair and wrapped a leg around the older’s waist instinctively. At the new position, their groins bumped together, ripping a moan from both. Sherlock writhed at the new sensations, surprised at his bodily reactions but feeling too good to care. John detached their mouths to breathe before attaching to the long neck before him, leaving marks and bites scattered along it.

John pulled Sherlock’s other leg around his waist and grinded down on him, causing Sherlock to yelp and bite his lip, arching up into John, desperate for more friction.

John sat up and smiled down at Sherlock. Sherlock couldn’t help the moan that left him as John looked at him like that. He was flushed from head to toe, every nerve in his body electrified as he stared up at John, fire in his eyes. “Jawn,” he moaned again, desperate for the shorter man to be on top of him again.

John grinned wider and got off of Sherlock, earning a groan of displeasure from Sherlock. Walking towards the detective’s bedroom, John smirked over at Sherlock, a clear invitation to the other. Sherlock scrambled up and followed, rushing awkwardly, to accommodate for his pants dilemma.

Once in the room, John had pulled Sherlock down for another kiss, while he pushed off the man’s robe and lifted off his shirt, only parting for as little as possible. John pushed Sherlock onto the bed and tore off his jumper and shirt in one go. Climbing back on top of Sherlock, John kissed up his chest, landing on soft lips, kissing them raw as calloused hands explored the pale, thin torso.

“Sherlock,” John grunted as Sherlock kissed the side of his neck, timidly trying to mimic his motions.

Sherlock shot back, eyes fearful. “D- did I, do something wrong?”

John chuckled and kissed Sherlock on the lips chaste and gentle. “No, no, no. You’re doing fine, Sher. Just do what feels right.”

Sherlock nodded and smiled, ducking his head to suck at John’s neck. Letting off, Sherlock grinned at the deep purple that rose at where his lips had been placed just seconds ago. He sucked at another spot, moaning at the noises that were being emitted from John’s throat. He continued a few more spots until John slipped his hand in Sherlock’s boxers. He hadn’t even noticed when his trousers were being removed.

John gripped his hand around Sherlock’s length and slowly slipped off the remaining clothing, leaving Sherlock stark naked and in John’s control. “What do you want me to do, Sher? We could stop, now, if you aren’t ready.”

Sherlock shook his head side to side violently. “A- Anything but th- that. Don’t s- stop, John. Pleeeaaase.” Sherlock arched his back up, head thrown back, hands gripping tight at the sheets, as John began to slowly move his hand up and down the shaft. Sherlock moaned through his seemingly permanent open mouth, wanting more. “Jawn, m- more! Please, More. O- Oh go-ah!-d. Please, f- faster!”

John grinned and began to pump quickly, using the pre-cum for lube to smooth things out. Sherlock kept his eyes open, observing John’s every move, cataloging his reactions to certain things, and what reactions made John’s eyes go darker in lust.

Sherlock yelped as he felt something hard being gripped along with his dick in John’s hand. He looked away from John’s face downward to see both of them being pumped by John. This new feeling of cock against cock sent Sherlock on fire. His mouth wouldn’t shut as he released moan after moan, plead after plead. He quickly obtained control over his right arm and pulled at John’s neck until they were connected at the mouth as well. Soon Sherlock felt a coil tighten itself to a point of unbearable heat. He tried to voice his issue to John, but it seems the man was in a similar state, and just nodded his head and said it was alright before returning to their kiss, pumping faster, gripping harder, grinding into his hand.

Sherlock yelled as he exploded. Every nerve was on fire, his vision went white. He panicked slightly as John disappeared, but the man soon reappeared, with a very happy smile, calming Sherlock into a happy daze. He looked down to see white splotches dotting his stomach and coating John’s hand. He couldn’t bring his self to care about the mess though, and leaned up lazily to kiss John again. John smiled down again before placing a finger to his mouth.

“Be right back, we’re not done yet.”

John leapt up and ran out of the room. Sherlock looked after him, confused, wondering how he could stand when Sherlock could barely think.

John returned a minute later, holding a white bottle in one hand and a condom in the other. He looked at Sherlock and grinned before placing the items on the night stand and crawling back into bed. “How’d you like that?” He asked, smile still plastered onto his face.

Sherlock was still breathing heavily but managed out a quick, “Better than expected.”

John grinned wolfishly. “Want it to get much, much, better?”

Sherlock nodded eagerly, only put off by the smile long enough to blink.

John was kissing him again. Fierce and possessive. Sherlock decided he quite liked this side of John. Not long after, Sherlock felt something probe at his back entrance, flinching back, he gave John a confused, scared look. John gently kissed his face; forehead, nose, cheeks, lips.

“Shh Sher. It’ll be okay. I gotta prepare you or else I’ll hurt you.”

Sherlock nodded and allowed John to push the finger coated in lube in. He gasped at the cold, odd, uncomfortable feeling, waiting as John wiggled his finger around. “You need to relax a bit, love. You’re too tight, I won’t be able to get a second one in.”

“O- okay, John. Sorry.” John kissed Sherlock again, before pushing in a second finger. Sherlock gasped a bit louder and whimpered. This one hurt. John apologized and rubbed his fingers around, searching, until Sherlock gave a loud yelp and moaned, relaxing a bit more.

“Found it~!” John sang, gently rubbing the spot again, getting the same reaction. “Like that?” he asked, pressing in three quick concessions.

Sherlock moaned and tried to suck the fingers in deeper. “Wait Sher, you aren’t ready yet.”

The detective whined until he felt a third finger being pressed into him. He yelped in pain again, until it ebbed away to pleasure as John rubbed the three against his prostate in random patterns.

Sherlock felt boneless as he was filled with pleasure, John working his ass with his fingers. When he pulled them out, Sherlock whined at the emptiness and pouted up at John. “I’m sorry, Sherlock. Don’t worry, It gets better than that.” John rolled the condom onto his self and lined his self up, pressing the tip at Sherlock’s entrance. “Now this’ll hurt at first, okay? But trust me, it gets amazing, just bear with me, okay love?”

Sherlock nodded and smiled as John began to kiss him deeply. Just as he began to lose himself in the kiss, pain ripped through his lower abdomen. Sherlock cursed and bit his lip from shouting more. John soothingly kissed his neck and nipped at his ear, tugging the curls gently. “Shh baby, you need to relax, or this’ll keep hurting, okay? Please Sherlock, relax.”

Soon the pain subsided to a light sting and Sherlock shakily begged for John to move, not being able to take the stillness anymore. John pulled out to the tip and slammed back in, deeper than before. Sherlock whimpered again, moaning as he rubbed against his prostate. “G- Good?” John asked.

Sherlock nodded and pulled John down for another kiss, wrapping his legs around the doctor. John repeated the action until Sherlock was once again, his moaning mess.

Sherlock gripped onto John’s back as the man above him relentlessly pumped into him, shaking the bed repeatedly.

“Jo- j- john-ah! Mo- JOHN! Ah~!” Sherlock let out as his body was attacked and ravished by John. His hair was pulled back and John bit harshly into his neck.

“Mine. You’re mine, Sherlock. Your life and b- body is mine. Understand?” John beat viciously into Sherlock, hitting his prostate dead on now.

Sherlock’s hands lost feeling and fell limp to the bed as he took John’s thrusts in. “Y- yes! Mm~ John! I’m y- y- yours! J- John~!”

John let go of Sherlock’s hair and kissed him deeply as he felt Sherlock tense up, ready for a second release. “JOOHHHHNN!” Sperm shot up, painting both of their stomach’s, Sherlock laying in a panting mess. John buried his face in Sherlock’s shoulder, biting fiercely, Cumming on the spot as he replayed Sherlock’s face as he came in his head.

Pulling out gently, John kissed the teeth imprint he left and pulled off the condom, tying it off and throwing it to the overflowing ben near the door. He then rested next to Sherlock, kissing every mark he had left, leaving words of endearment and apologies for each.

Sherlock looked up to John, tears gathering in his eyes.

“Sherlock?” John asked worriedly. He quickly wiped them off Sherlock’s face before they had a chance to escape.

Sherlock kissed John lightly and then kissed his nose before lying on the pillow, holding onto John’s arm. “Thank you, John. Thank you very much.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last and final Chapter.

Chapter 6

_*Knock Knock Knock*_ Sherlock groaned and rolled over to cover his ears. _*Knock Knock Knock*_ “Jooooohhhnnnnnnn.” _*Knock! Knock! Knock!*_ “JOHN!”

“What? Sherlock, I’m right here! What is it?”

“Get the DOOR, John!”

The Detective groaned aloud as another knocking went off. “John! The door! Make it stoop!”

_*Knock Knock Knock Knock KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!*_

_“Damnit…”_ John finally got up with a groan and slipped on his pants which were left on the floor. Slowly making his way out the bedroom, he headed towards the door, silently cursing Sherlock for making him leave the bed. Upon opening, John was surprised to find DI Lestrade not looking very happy.

“Greg? What do you want?”

The DI zoned in on John’s torso and neck. Lestrade frowned disapprovingly. “You brought someone home last night, John? I thought the plan was to help Sherlock, not scar him.”

John blushed slightly and chuckled to himself, not meeting the DI’s eyes. “Uhh there’s no one here other than Sherlock and I, Detective…”

Greg looked shocked. “You mean she already left? But it’s only three. That’s too bad, Sherlock scared her off already, yeah?”

“Uhhmm. Greg, there wasn’t _anyone_ after you left…”

“Wait, so you mean that’s old? And uh, John? Can I come in, please? I do have actual business.”

John was thankful for the subject change. _‘Let the man think what he wants.’_ “Sure, Greg. Sorry.” Stepping out of the way, John allowed Lestrade into the Flat, leading him to one of the many seats. “So, you have some business?”

“Well of course, we need to help Sherlock, yes? So did you find out anything last night?”

“Uhh yeah… Today actually. All solved. He’s fine.” John rubbed at his neck nervously and sat down on the sofa since Greg was currently seated in his arm chair.

“Fine? John, just last night, Sherlock was prepared to take his own life.”

“Yes. I’m well aware, and we’re working on it, Sherlock and I. I’m helping him, and that’s all you need to know. It won’t just go away in a night, you know. Those thoughts must have been there for a while, manifesting, until finally he cracked. Us coming up with some kind of plan will not help anything. He’ll be fine with me.”

Lestrade stared at John until snapping out of his stupor. He was about to shout back at the doctor but a very annoyed Sherlock stepped into view, dressed in his usual flat attire consisting of a new, clean pair of thin pajama pants and the white shirt he had earlier, robe flailing out dramatically behind him.

“If you wish to speak behind one’s back, please at least _attempt_ to not allow the person to overhear.” Sherlock gracefully fell into his arm chair and scowled at Lestrade, trying to convey his annoyance. “I’m fine, Lestrade. John and I are sorting it out just fine without your help.”

“Sherlock, he was just worried,” John scolded, frowning at Sherlock’s rudeness.

Lestrade glanced between the two. “No, John. It’s okay. I shouldn’t have intervened.” Looking at Sherlock, Lestrade sighed. “I really am worried about you though. God have mercy on me, but I consider you one of my closest friends, Sherlock. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

Sherlock scoffed but kept his mouth closed at John’s stare.

Before the awkwardness could set in, John jumped up, offering tea. He dashed into the kitchen, not allowing either to refuse.

All was silent once John had left the detectives alone. Lestrade shifted nervously in his seat before voicing a question that had been bothering him the past twenty-four hours. “Sherlock… If you don’t mind me asking, I know I’m crossing a line and all, but why… just, why. Why’d you want… to… well, do _that_?”

“You are indeed crossing a line, detective. John is handling it; it is none of your business.”

“Right, I’m sorry. That was wrong of me to ask.” Lestrade looked away guiltily before hearing Sherlock sigh.

“It… was for personal matters. J- John knows. He’s helping. Thanks for… stopping… me. Yeah. If you didn’t… well, I wouldn’t be here right now, would I.”

Lestrade smiled softly and placed a hand on Sherlock’s arm, which was resting on the arm chair. “Sure Sherlock. I’ll always be here to help you.”

The hand was removed and eye contact was completely avoided until John returned, carrying a tray of drinks, Lestrade chuckled as Sherlock jumped up to help John place them down.

 

“Should we tell people?”

John was typing up a new blog when the question was asked. Lestrade had left some time ago, and the London sky was gradually getting darker by the minute. He looked up from his laptop to find Sherlock perched on the couch, hand poised in his ‘Thinking stance’ as John called. “Tell people what, Sherlock?”

Without looking away from the wall, Sherlock said, “That we’re together.”

John blinked. _What?_ “Uhh… We are?’

Sherlock snapped his head towards John and stared. “Aren’t we? I thought that was what sleeping together on emotional terms usually entitles.”

“W- Well yeah… but people normally talk about it first.”

“Talking’s boring.” And with that, Sherlock’s eyes returned to the wall with a sigh.

“Oh well uhm.. Okay. D- Do you… want to be together?”

“I believe that goes without saying, John.”

John blinked. He was quiet for some time, rolling the idea around his mind. Returning to his blog, John let out, “I suppose we should go on a date then.”

Sherlock grunted lightly, fighting to stay in reality. “We do that already.”

John laughed. “No, Sherlock. We go out as friends. Now is different, now we can actually call it a date.”

“So, by simply calling it something else, makes it not what it is? How ignorant.”

Rolling his eyes, John smiled and finished up the posting process for his latest entry.

“John.”

“What?” John closed his laptop and returned Sherlock’s stare.

“You never answered my question.”

“What _question,_ Sherlock?”

Sherlock sighed, aggravated and looked away from John. “If we are going to tell people, John. Do listen, please.”

“Oh uh.. Do you want to?”

“I don’t care either way. I just supposed you would be _offended_ if I made the decision without you knowing.”

“Oh. Okay, well yeah. I don’t mind if people know.”

“Great.” Sherlock jumped off the couch and stood in front of John, pulling him up out of his chair. “But no affections while I’m working.”

John smiled sweetly and kissed Sherlock lightly on the lips, Sherlock blinked but kissed him back. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Sher.”

“Are you aware you’re doing that.”

“Doing what?” John wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s waist and looked up to meet his eyes, Sherlock resting his hands on John’s chest.

“You called me ‘Sher’.”

John turned his own shade of red and avoided Sherlock’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I- I didn’t notice.”

“No! Uh.. no. It’s alright, John. I don’t mind.”

Smirking, John looked up, catching Sherlock’s eyes. “Since when do you get awkward?”

“Shut up.”

“No. I want to know! Is it me that makes you nervous?” John teased. Sherlock ducked out of the doctor’s hold and plopped onto his couch once again and looked away, crossing his arms. He let out a quiet ‘hmpf’ and closed his eyes as a blush fought its way up his face.

John smiled down at his detective and pulled him into his lap, gently kissing his neck. Sherlock jumped at the contact before letting out a quiet moan. “You know…,” John started as his kisses turned more aggressive, tracing the bites from earlier, “I’m still not gay.”

Sherlock pushed John off his neck and looked down at the man confusedly. “ I think we’re a bit passed defining your sexuality, John.”

“No, you don’t get it, Sherlock. I’m seriously NOT gay. It’s just you.” John smiled sweetly at Sherlock, as the other man blushed fiercely, processing the words trough his head.

“Well… Th- thank you, J- John.”

Kissing Sherlock, John pulled the detective closer, until he had all of Sherlock in his arms. Breathing heavy, John pulled out of the kiss and licked his lips, still smiling at Sherlock. “Would you like to continue our earlier activities?”

Sherlock’s eyes darkened with lust and want. He threw himself forward, meeting John’s lips again and wrapped his long body around the doctor. John gripped Sherlock’s thighs tight and carried him to his bed room upstairs and laid Sherlock onto the bed, crawling over him once more.

John kissed the detectives neck gently and slipped off the man’s robe, afterwards quickly removing his shirt. With both of them half dressed, Sherlock moaned at the skin to skin contact. He wiggled his hips impatiently and pulled John into a needy kiss, tugging at John’s sweat pants in an attempt to remove them.

John laughed affectionately and pulled the younger’s pajama pants and boxers off, licking and biting softly at his waist line. Sherlock moaned and tugged at John’s short hair, conveying his desperation. John smiled and placed nips and sucks just below Sherlock’s length and carefully took a ball into his mouth, tugging on it gently and swirling his tongue around it. Sherlock arched his back and spread his legs open wider, surprised and slightly appalled at his actions.

“J- John! Wh- what are you…”

John grinned up at Sherlock and smiled. “I’m celebrating.” With that, John swallowed down Sherlock’s entire length in one go, Sherlock yelping in surprise.

He thrusted up into the hot, wet, heat, John sucking deeply and gently running his fingers through Sherlock’s wiry hair surrounding his groin. John hollowed out his cheeks and Sherlock couldn’t help the deep throaty moan that fell out with each suck.

Fingers were shoved in Sherlock’s mouth and began running along his tongue and curling against his cheek. Sherlock got the hint and sucked the fingers in time with John’s mouth.

Sherlock felt his self become close and whined when John’s mouth popped off, only to be replaced with a hand, stroking fast enough to send thrills up Sherlock’s spine, but too slow for him to orgasm. The three, now slick, fingers were suddenly trailed down Sherlock’s body and prodded at his entrance. Sherlock moaned lewdly when one by one, they were pushed in.

John mercilessly began thrusting his fingers against Sherlock’s prostate and sucked his dick back into his awaiting mouth. Sherlock groaned at the pleasure, body confused at which to focus on. He felt as if every nerve ending was on fire. John flicked his tongue against Sherlock’s slit and pressed extra hard inside of him in a rhythmic recession. Sherlock screamed as he felt his nerve endings burn with the over stimulus.

John grinned around Sherlock’s dick and removed his fingers to hold Sherlock’s hips firmly and sucked harder than he had before. Reaching up to run his wet fingers along Sherlock’s chest, Sherlock tensed up immediately and thrusted up high enough to cause John to gag and came. Cum filled John’s mouth and the soldier coughed heavily, spilling it all down his chin, to drip back onto Sherlock. After regaining his breathing, John carefully licked up the mess he had made on the detective. Lying against Sherlock, John held the taller man as he still trembled from his previous orgasm.

“Oh my- _Jawn_! Where did you _learn_ that?”

John smirked. “Internet. Figured I’d try it out. So you liked it?”

“ _Liked it?_ John I _loved it!_ You need to do that again sometime. And maybe… one day… I can do it to you?”

John growled and kissed Sherlock possessively. “That would be _wonderful._ ”

Sherlock broke he kiss and latched onto John’s neck, reaching a hand down John’s pants. Gripping John tightly into his hand, Sherlock groaned as he heard John moan in his ear. It only took 5 or 6 pumps from his hand to hear John shooting in his trousers. John quickly discarded his sweaty, sex soaked clothes and curling around Sherlock, the younger held tightly to his chest. The two laid together in the dark room that smelled of John and Sherlock couldn’t help but think, “How did I ever think this was a bad idea?”

**Author's Note:**

> I originally got the idea for this story off an omegle chat I saw on my tumblr dash. I really like the way this chapter turned out:)


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